


A Christmas Eve Surprise

by MajorWinchesterFan



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorWinchesterFan/pseuds/MajorWinchesterFan
Summary: Charles is in no mood to celebrate the holiday. But, his sister has been scheming, in hopes that a surprise visit by someone from his past, might lift his Christmas spirits.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	A Christmas Eve Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stateofintegrity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/gifts).



Charles Winchester had spent the better part of the late evening hour swirling a tumbler of scotch in one hand while staring out the window, watching as darkness fell and snow gently blanketed the cobblestone streets outside the home he shared with his sister, Honoria, on Beacon Hill. 

"It's Christmas eve Charles, won't you at least join me in singing along to carols playing on the radio? We've always done, even when we were children, sneaking down to the servant's hall to listen with Carson on that monstrosity he referred to as the wireless."  
  
The corner of Charles' mouth quirked up and he smiled ever so briefly at one of the few pleasant memories from his childhood. "Honoria," he sighed, remembering another Christmas eve long ago, when his father had found them below stairs, boisterously singing along to Jingle Bells with the servants. The elder Winchester, after admonishing his butler about the impropriety of the situation, had banished the siblings to their rooms for the remainder of the night. "How many times must I tell you, sister dear, that I have no wish to celebrate any aspect of the holidays this year."

"Brother mine, you ought to have auditioned for the role of Scrooge at the Boston Playhouse. With the scowl you've had plastered on your face the past few weeks, you would have been a shoo in."

"Haha, very funny, but I've no reason to mark the holiday."

"You were fortunate enough to have made it home from the war in one piece, you ought to be celebrating out of gratitude, if nothing else."

"How can I, knowing that I left the best part of me in Korea!" 

Honoria rolled her eyes in exasperation, "then perhaps you should have been searching for your better half instead of sulking."

"You don't understand," her brother cried, "I have but there's no Maxwell Klinger currently residing in   
Toledo! As a matter of fact, according to my team of overpaid private investigators, there are no Klinger's to be found in the entire state of Ohio!"

Studying her distraught older sibling, the young woman took pity, "Perhaps you've not been searching in the right place." she said softly.

Charles looked up, his eyes brimming with tears, "That's it," he said hopefully, "I seem to recall Max mentioning that his family might move out west. I'll have my investigators look into it as soon as Christmas is over."

Honoria pursed her lips in frustration. I _meant_ _a bit_ _closer to home,_ _my dear idiot._ Then, as her brother stood, announcing his intention to retire for the evening, she glanced anxiously towards the clock, fingers crossed. At that moment, the doorbell sounded, and she smiled at the perturbed look on Charles' face, "who on earth would have the audacity to call unannounced at this hour," he grumbled, "and, on Christmas eve no less."

"With any luck, it will be the ghost of Christmas past," Honoria replied drolly.

"Bah, humbug." he huffed, before he could stop himself. Honoria grinned, quite pleased with the response she had elicited from her older brother. "You don't suppose, it's mother and father?" he then asked, sounding mildly horrified.

"I suppose, ghosts would be preferable," she teased, "but, in any case, I'd suggest you answer the door."

"Let one of the servants get it," he said, with a wave of his hand.

"In case you've forgotten, my lord, it's Christmas eve, we gave the servants the night off. Besides, as well as being the man of the house, you're a gentleman, so it's your duty to receive any and all guests."

“I'm certain, they’ll go away soon enough, if we ignore them."

"Charles Emerson Winchester, you answer the door right this minute," his sister scolded.

"Yes, mother," he glared at her, purposefully dragging his feet as he made his way into the hall. _If_ _I_ _take my time and they happen to leave, surely_ _you_ _can't_ _fault_ _me for their impatience._

Charles trod stealthily down the hall, veering off center so that he could sidle up beside a row of small rectangular panes of glass that ran down each side of an oaken front door. Peering out, he was pleased to see that whomever had planned to disturb his evening was currently making their way back down the front steps. Glancing down at the threshold, he was surprised to see their mysterious visitor had come bearing gifts. Intrigued, he continued to watch as the seemingly familiar figure trudged down the sidewalk, turning in the direction of Acorn Street. The surgeon's heart began to pound, as it suddenly occurred to him that the slumped shoulders and gait with which the person carried himself reminded him of Max. _No,it couldn't be. You've been drowning your sorrows in alcohol, and have had far too much to drink._ _This is just_ _a futile attempt of your imagination to wish his presence into being._ At the next light post, the individual suddenly turned, his dress browns covered with falling snow, delicate features illuminated beneath the soft glow of a flickering gas lamp. At the sight of Maxwell Q. Klinger, Charles' heart nearly lept out of his chest. The tall Bostonian threw open the door, dashing down the icy steps, heedless of any danger, "Maxwell," he shouted into the blustery winds. "Maxwell, wait!" he cried again, hitting the sidewalk at full stride, slipping and stumbling as he raced along the icy walk. Upon reaching the former member of his MASH unit, Winchester attempted to stop, but failed, causing the former corporal to lunge at his friend as the taller man went sliding helplessly past him. With neither man able to purchase his balance, the two, legs entangled, took quite the tumble, crashing into a nearby snow bank, with Charles miraculously having the presence to scoop the younger man up in his arms and roll them so that Max was not crushed beneath his bulky frame.

"Maxwell, is it truly you? You are not some figment of my imagination?" he asked, reaching up to stroke the young man's face. _My dear, you are so beautiful in the glow of the streetlight, your lovely dark lashes powdered with snowflakes._

"Hiya, Major," Max smiled shyly, "you sure do know how ta make a gal feel welcome!"

"Were you," Charles righted them, tugging Klinger onto his lap, and pulling the young man tight against his broad chest, "were you going to leave without so much as a hello?"

Max shrugged a shoulder, "kinda figured you looked out, saw me, and decided not to open the door."

Winchester's gaze raked over his darling corporal, his head tilting to the side, and he gave his friend a curious look, "pray tell, my dear, why are you wearing dress browns? Not that you aren't lovely, mind you. And, why are you calling on us so late? The Bostonian's hands slid down to settle at the young man's waist, "Have you even had dinner? And," his brow furrowed, "why are you walking? It's not a fit night out for man nor beast!"

"Well, sir," 

"Sir?" Charles narrowed his eyes and frowned, it wasn't a good sign that Max was addressing him in such a formal manner.

Klinger ducked his head, "like you said, major, these are streets that at one time I wouldn't have been allowed to walk on."

The older man's stomach clenched, recalling and deeply regretting his boorish remarks, "Maxwell, I am sorry, I…"

"It's ok sir, you don't need ta apologize to me."

 _Yes_ _I_ _do, my pretty one and_ _I_ _promise you, for every hurtful, disparaging remark my lips have uttered, I shall make it up to you, tenfold._

"Anyway," Max blushed, "I didn't want ta, ya know, embarrass ya. So, I waited 'til late, figured everybody would be busy celebrating, and I wore my dress browns so that, hopefully, I'd look respectable enough to call on a Winchester, in case anyone did see me. And, well, I figured folks might notice a cab pulling up in front of your place, so I came on foot."

 _My dear sweet girl, not_ a _thought for your comfort or convenience, only for me and this blasted Winchester name._ _I_ _am not worthy of_ _your_ _lovely heart._

“I... I have, ah," Charles began gently rocking the young man back and forth, "been searching for you."

"Yeah, Nori told me."

Charles leaned back to study his beloved's face, "You... you have spoken with Honoria?"

"Who do ya think invited me?" He paused, "I may be a poor kid from Toledo, but even I know it's not proper to show up unannounced at place like the Winchester residence. Anyhow, we'd spoken to one another in Korea." He elbowed Charles in the side, "She told me, you were always bragging about how creative I could get with a bolt of cloth. After we got back home, she called to ask if I would create some designs for her."

"She knew you were in Boston? Why did you...do you think so little of me…" Charles hung his head, "because I was cruel to you, you have avoided me, I cannot blame you."

"No, 's nothing like that, major. You see, Nori passed along some of my designs, and well, I got an offer to come to Boston to do some designing, on a trial basis. And, well," he grinned, "it's worked out pretty swell."

"Max, that's wonderful news!" Charles pulled the young man closer, before his brow furrowed. "Tell me though, did you never intend for me to know of your success?"

"Nah, 's not like that, I jus' wanted to get everything up and running before I contacted you. Ya know, so, if it all worked out, you could be proud. And, if it didn't, well, I didn't want ya to know I'd failed at the only thing you seemed to think I was good at. I didn't want to disappoint you, figured I'd done that plenty a times in Korea."

 _Oh my sweet,_ _I_ _have done you_ a _great disservice by not singing your praises for all the wonder that is uniquely you._

Charles lifted Maxwell's hand to his lips, "Congratulations, my darling! The Klinger collection now has it's very own line." He tilted the former clerk's head up to hold his gaze, "I am so very proud of you!"

"Well, not exactly," Max looked sheepish, "but soon, I hope." He saw the confusion written on Charles' face, "At the moment, I'm launching a special line based in Boston, it's gonna be called," embarrassed, he looked away, before murmuring, "the Winchester collection. If that's alright with you?" he quickly added, glancing at Charles and seeing the surprise etched into the other man's features. "It's a myriad...," 

"A myriad?" Charles teased, raising a brow. 

"Hey, don't look at me like that, I learned a whole lotta swell words after you set foot in the 4077. Anyway, as I was sayin', it's a myriad of blues and violets and lilac. And, purple, of course, the color of royalty, cuz that's what you are, major."

At that last bit, Charles tilted his head, blue eyes meeting brown with a pensive expression that left Klinger feeling uncertain. After a long moment, in which the older man spoke nary a word, Max began to fret that he'd provoked his friend, "I'm sorry sir, I'll call it something else if the name upsets you. I jus' thought it'd be nice to name it after the person who inspired me."

"Maxwell, I am not upset, love. I am simply dumbfounded. I,ah, inspire you?"

"Who'd ya think I had in mind when I was creating all those classy outfits over in Korea? Sure wasn't Captains Pierce or Hunnicutt!"

"Am I hearing you right? You would have been mine, had I the courage to ask, even before we left Korea?"

Max threw back his head, bright laughter escaping from lips that Charles had, for far too long, desired to kiss, "Major, I was _**yours**_ the minute you sat foot in camp. And, I woulda stowed away in your duffel bag if I'd have thought you woulda brought me home with ya."

"Will you, now? Be mine, that is? Make your home with me?"

"You sure that's what ya want, Major? Cuz, if I say yes, you're gonna be stuck with me forever."

"Say yes, Max. I beg you, say yes, **now!"**

"Yes, Major.."

"Not like that," Charles shook his head, "say my name, Max, please. Let me hear you say my name."

As soon as the words, _**yes, Charles,** _had left his mouth, Max found himself being pressed into the snow. Bracing himself on one hand, Charles hovered above the young man, the fingers of his free hand threading through luscious dark locks while he placed passionate kisses to lips that tasted of honey and vanilla. Kisses that might have gone on for hours had they not been interrupted.

"Ebeneezer, Tiny Tim, both of you, inside, now," Honoria ordered, "before one of you catches your death! Brother of mine, you are supposedly a talented thoracic surgeon, which means you ought to know better than to be cavorting about in such weather!" she reprimanded her older sibling.

"Yes, sister, dear," Charles stood, "Thank you for reminding me," he replied, sarcastically, "I had quite forgotten."

Offering a hand, he helped Max to his feet, pulling him close, before whispering "What say you, sweet prince, shall we go home?"

Maxwell, smiling radiantly, his delicate fingers laced through the major's long, slender digits, nodded at his knight in shining armor, "Lead the way, o' handsome, tall, and fair one of my dreams."

The end


End file.
